Enchanting
by Seraph2
Summary: Bumlets meets an "enchanting" blonde boy at a New Year's Eve party, and somehow they end up at the boy's house. (Slash)


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Disclaimer: The characters from _Newsies _belong to Disney. The plot belongs to me.

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Enchanting

"Enchanting," was his description. His eyes, like inverted Oreo's---rich black centers surrounded by luscious white cream---sparked with excitement and intrigue. He ran one hand through his sumptuous ebony hair---glossy, black hair scented with soap and spices---before discreetly wiping the barely moist palm on his baggy khaki pants.

"Enchanting," was how many girls would describe him, or maybe "tempting". After just one look, you could sense that his caramel-colored hands would send fire blazing through your veins as soon as they touched your skin. You could feel the sensual caresses of his full, gorgeous lips on your face and neck. And when you heard his voice---oh, that sexy, sinful voice---you wanted him to talk forever, just so you could luxuriate in its rich, resonant tones.

But he rarely talked. He simply watched, mute, as others socialized around him. Occasionally, he sipped from his goblet of chilled spring water or bit into one of the richly flavored chocolate morsels on the china platter at his side. But mostly he wrote, his fountain pen dripping jet ink onto the coarse, cream-colored pages of his leather-bound journal, forming loops and flourishes that created elegant, flowing words.

Most of the page was filled with succinct descriptions of the various party guests:

"Wearing a fringed crimson dress with black suede heels. Harsh voice, talks incessantly. Shall refer to her as Parrot. Or perhaps Macaw.

"Pear-shaped, wearing sparkly gold tiara and long, green, velvet cape which completely engulfs body from neck to ankles. Reminds one of a Christmas tree."

The last paragraph on the page, however, contained only one word: "Enchanting." That was all the young man had managed to write before he was consumed in staring at the god who reclined in a chair across the room from him, engaged in a worn, hardcover copy of _A Christmas Carol_. He was like a moth surrounded by butterflies, his porcelain skin and sugar-silk hair offering a welcome respite from the gaudy dresses and brightly-colored ties of the other party guests.

Slowly, the journal-writer closed his diary and strolled intently across the ornate room to where the alabaster deity was seated. As he walked, he purposefully ignored the appraising, admiring looks he received from various rich young ladies who were searching for a new escort.

"That's a good book," the boy commented, his voice unusually husky. He kneeled beside the paler boy's richly upholstered chair, his chin very near the boy's hand. "My name's Angelo, but everyone calls me Bumlets. No idea why."

"I'm Dutchy," the other boy said simply, closing his book and shifting a little to observe this interesting new visitor.

"Would you like to go for a walk?" Bumlets suggested, confident that this heavenly stranger would agree. And he did.

Together, Bumlets and Dutchy walked down the front corridor of the Jacobs's elaborate mansion, both giving a quick reply to Mrs. Jacobs's effusive chatter at the front door. If she had taken a break from greeting her fashionably late guests, she might have realized that Sarah, her only daughter, was locked in one bedroom with her boyfriend Jack, getting a head start on their New Year's resolution to "spend more time together", and that her oldest son was in another bedroom cuddling (among other things) with Spot Conlon.

Outside the Jacobs's house, the sky seemed infinite and awesomely powerful, held in place only by glittering white pinprick stars and the full moon, a cool, luminescent orb. The two young men strolled down the deserted sidewalk together, passing by large wooden Victorians, all bedecked in gingerbread trim and a plethora of holiday adornments. The Jacobs lived on a large cul-de-sac in one of the oldest and most wealthy neighborhoods in the city, and Bumlets, with his exotic appearance and slight Spanish accent, didn't quite fit in.

"So, are you from around here?" Dutchy queried, his voice quiet and slightly hoarse, as though it wasn't used very often.

"No. I'm one of Sarah's old boyfriends, and we still get along, so I was invited," Bumlets explained good-naturedly. "That was before I figured out that I'd rather _have_ a boyfriend instead of just being one." Dutchy seemed unfazed by this confession, so Bumlets continued. "But you live in this neighborhood, right?"

"Yeah, my house is over there." Dutchy indicated a large white house that looked more like an oversized wedding cake than a dwelling. "And David and I used to be real good friends…" Dutchy's voice drifted away wistfully, as if the rest of his words had been caught on the abnormally warm New Year's Eve wind and carried off into oblivion.

"Just friends?" Bumlets coaxed.

Dutchy blushed prettily, pale pink roses blooming in his cheeks. "David gave me my first kiss," he admitted. "But then he found Spot and forgot about me. Without David, I'm kinda out of friends."

Impulsively, Bumlets reached for Dutchy's hand, feeling a longing to comfort this lonely, shy young man. Dutchy accepted Bumlets's offering, and they slowly migrated closer until their shoulders were nearly touching.

"Do you…um…" Dutchy cleared his throat nervously, "Would you like to see inside my house?

"Sure," Bumlets replied, trying to keep his voice soothing, so as to ease some of Dutchy's anxiety. They had circled partway around the cul-de-sac and landed at Dutchy's foreboding front door. The blonde boy slowly unlocked it and motioned for Bumlets to enter. 

The threshold led to a gorgeous entryway. "You…um…you might want to take your shoes off," Dutchy suggested. "Angie doesn't like scuff marks on the wooden floors."

"Angie?" Bumlets wondered.

"Our housekeeper," Dutchy clarified as Bumlets wordlessly followed Dutchy through the house, feeling the alternating textures of polished, waxed wood and plush, welcoming carpet beneath his sock-clad feet. After travelling up one grand, sweeping staircase and through a labyrinth of tinsel-strewn corridors, the two boys arrived outside a closed wooden door with a framed portrait of the Cinnamon Valley High School Marching Band affixed to it. Bumlets was impressed---that was a good school and a very good band.

"This is my room," Dutchy announced awkwardly, opening the door as his blush deepened, highlighting his gorgeous cheekbones. Bumlets stepped in, absorbing the new iMac, full bookshelves, and music stand and instrument case.

"You play trumpet?" he wondered, and Dutchy nodded modestly.

"First chair," he added softly.

"Same here," Bumlets commented. "Except it's not really that much of an honor at my school. Our band's pretty sucky. Not like Valley's." Tentatively, Bumlets moved toward Dutchy's bed and lowered himself onto it.

"So," he teased, "tell me more about you and David."

Dutchy's cheeks were now an adorable shade of magenta, but he answered Bumlets's inquiry. "We grew up together. Last year, we kind of started experimenting…not much---a few kisses, mostly." Dutchy settled himself next to Bumlets on the bed before continuing. "Then, a few months ago, he told me he'd meant this really great guy. A guy who would do more than just kiss…"

Again, Bumlets felt an immense desire to comfort Dutchy, to hold him and kiss his forehead and tell him that David was just a spoiled, rich asshole who wasn't worthy of Dutchy's statuesque, angelic perfection.

"So, those kisses," Bumlets started, a teasing smile creeping across his face. "What were they like? Were they like this?" Slowly but confidently, Bumlets moved closer to Dutchy, resting one of his hands on Dutchy's waist and letting the other creep up to his neck, sensing the blonde boy's anxiety and anticipation from his tensed muscles and racing pulse. He leaned forward, tasting Dutchy's breath on his tongue, and then finally let his lips connect with their goal. Dutchy melted eagerly into Bumlets's arms, and his lips caressed Bumlets's own. They combined, white and dark chocolate, coffee and cream, two opposites who blended together perfectly. After a long, ecstasy-laced moment, Bumlets gently pulled away, running a yearning hand through Dutchy's fine, silky hair before returning it to the blonde's neck.

"So?" he asked, his voice deep, husky, and slightly breathless. "Like David's kisses?"

"No," Dutchy said, his eyes glistening with emotion. "So much better."

Bumlets grinned and pulled Dutchy into another kiss as, somewhere in that massive house, the clock struck midnight.

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AN: Well, that's my contribution to the Newsies New Year's fics. "Enchanting" was originally going to describe a girl that Bumlets liked, but then I realized that it would be much more fun to make it describe a _boy _that Bumlets liked. Happy New Year, everybody!


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